


Motivations

by Diviana



Series: Damaged Talons [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, priest!jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/Diviana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Addictions, Roy turned to Gotham for some advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motivations

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my birthday and to celebrate I decided to write a side story story to git y’all. I’ll update the ebooks at a later date when I update with part 8.

Roy pulled his hood up, pulling it tight against his collar. His breathe formed white wisps in the dark. The sky glowed a purplish navy as clouds diluted the inky darkness of the night. The chipped white painted building in front of him was silent. A single light lit the interior. Roy made out a tall figure in that gown that priests wore. The man, Jason if Roy remembered correctly, walked the perimeter checking on the windows and locks. At this hour, the church accepted no visitors as it passed the witch's hour.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he slouched. He wondered, _Should I go inside?_

The wind bit into the sides of his exposed face, urging him indoors. Nerves kept Roy rooted by the back entrance. He didn't want to interrupt especially since it looked like the priest was locking up for the night. Sighing, Roy shifted to generate some heat. He had fully intended to come here earlier. He'd even left around three in search of the place, but he'd gotten turned around on his way here.

A crook ran across his path with three purses in hand. Even out of costume, Roy felt an obligation to stop them. He wasn't one of those heroes that always had one's costume on hand. He heard Supes wore his under his clothes and Bats slept in his, so he pumped his feet. Vaulting over items that the crook knocked into his path, Roy slung the lid of a trash can towards the man. In two seconds, _bam_ the crook laid face down on the floor.

The crook felt like a sack of bones. Roy propped him against the alleyway. Carefully unhooking gloved fingers from the faux leather bags, Roy placed them in a neat pile next to the unconscious man, but away from the street. He hadn't stopped one criminal for another one to run away with the goods.

Roy snaked deeper into the alley. _Clank, clank, clank._ Tugging at a rusted fire escape ladder, he perched himself just out of sight. With one eye on the knocked out crook, dug he through his pockets for a burner phone. Normally he had the number memorized, but this wasn't his city. Not that he had a city since. . .

Roy swallowed, his arm aching. His fingers shook as he dialed 911. He clenched his fist as he waited for the dial-tone. The bite of his nails digging into his palm took off a bit of the edge, a welcome distraction to the overwhelming urge to turn a corner and find someone, anyone that would give him a fix.

"Hello, 911. What's your emergency?", the voice was monotone, nearly robotic repeating a message they probably had to say a thousand times a day.

"I saw a guy with a knife and some bags run into an alley," Roy fibbed.

"Are you okay, sir? What is your location?", the operator followed up.

Roy pinned the phone to his ear with his shoulder. Flipping out his personal phone, he quickly checked his location. If this had been Star City, he could've named the streets by heart, but Gotham was Batman's territory.

The operator questioned, "Hello, sir are you still there? Are you okay?"

"Sorry," Roy muttered, "I was just checking the intersection. It's past 1st Street and Cobblepot Avenue across from the -"

He paused glancing around. A dingy laundromat was barely visible from his position next to it sat a video rental store. Roy blinked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one of those places. Roy shift, checking that the criminal hadn't moved since Roy started his call. The body sank along the wall, flopping into a unmoving lump on the concrete.

"A video store with an orange sign, Joe's. I'm fine. I have to run, so bye."

"Wait, can you please file -", the operator managed to hiss before Roy shut off his burner phone.

Folding his legs, Roy settled in for a wait. He didn't know Gotham PD's response times. If babysitting a low-level baddie meant they would go behind bars and some people getting their stuff back, he'd spare the time.. It wasn't like he was a fixture in this city. The Bat Squad had Gotham and as a wanderer Roy'd probably get in their way. It wasn't like he had a job lined up anyway.

Twenty-three minutes later, Roy scaled the building. He should've done it from the beginning. That night he had stumbled into the place. He'd been chasing a D-rated criminal. Bad footing landed him a one-way trip to the ground. From there, he was more or less fading in and out of consciousness as a broad-set man dragged him through the streets. If it weren't for the cross hanging from his neck and the black gown, Roy wouldn't have been able to tell he was a priest.

Withdrawal combined with a shitty fall made for a horrible recall. His mind blanked every time he tried to pin down the location of the church. Roy had decided to talk to the preach that helped him that night and hoped wandering the city would sort of lead him there. Since he originally arrived via rooftop, hopefully moving above the city would jog his memory.

If he was being honest, it didn't. Luck decided to put him out of his misery and he discovered one of his arrow points after he backtracked through the area for the umpteenth. The light glinting off the red tinted metal drew his eye. Based on the direction it lodged itself into the plaster, Roy made a guess and went with it.

The creaking of a hinge drew his attention back to the present. Jason had his back to Roy as he closed the stepped out into the night. Swiftly after exiting, he closed the door and locked it. Then, he turned. Roy stepped forward, letting his hood fall.

Jason's shoulders jerked up in surprise. His gem blue eyes analyzed Roy. The words sticking in Roy's throat. He rubbed the back of his head hoping that time would untangle his tongue. When that nothing, he pressed his fingers along his throat. Roy blinked. Internally, he shouted, _Why did I think this was a fucking good idea? I met the guy for what two hours, passed out on his couch, and left before he even wake up. He probably doesn't even have any idea who the hell I am._

"Hello," Jason greeted, taking the initiative. He straightened up, clasping his hands in front of him. A simple, professional smile lined his lips. He shifted closer to Roy before inquiring, "Did you need something?"

Leaning back, Roy muttered, "You probably don't remember me but you helped me out one night."

"Roy," he interrupted, "you were the superhero that gave me his real name."

Roy bit his cheek. Tilting his head, Roy observed the man in front of him, contrasting him with the priest who had patched him up. They looked the same, but Roy's brain had a hard time matching the two. Then it struck him that Jason had remembered his name. A tiny flame sparked in his chest, warming his heart.

"I must've been a pretty shitty house guest for you to still remember me," Roy mocked., grinding the dirt under his boot.

"No. I make a habit of remembering names and faces when I can," Jason said, the smile still lingering uncomfortably on his face.

"Oh."

"Did you need something, Roy?" Jason asked. His eyes scanned Roy's face, carefully.

"Um..," Roy hummed, scratching the back of his head.

Several scenarios played out in his head: some playful, some clever, some downright awkward. Roy swallowed. Inhaling deeply, he thought, _Fuck it. Just spit it out. You didn't come all the way to Gotham just to stand here freezing your ass off._

"I came here to talk to you," Roy backtracked, explaining, "a while after you patched me up. I got arrested for drunken stupidity, put in an AA program. Once that was down. Don't know what made me do it, but I tried to go clean. Part of my program is to talk to someone about it."

"I see," the priest commented, nodding his head. Sidestepping, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He gestured for Roy to enter. Then it clicked. The unsettling sensation Roy had watching the man in front of him was a priest. It was hard to put into words. The man in front of him was a priest named Jason, not Jason who was a priest.

"I wanted to talk to you. I'm not a big believer anymore," Roy stated.

The man stilled, running his fingers through his hair. His lapis eyes flickered across Roy's face. His posture slackened and the calm smile vanished from sight. He muttered, familiarly, "You still need to come inside, unless you want to have us of both freeze."

Roy hopped up the steps into the dark room. The door closed behind him and shortly after lights flashed on. Several pews queued up in front of Roy, standing in front of a platform. Roy glanced at Jason, unsure of where to go. He pointed to an empty pew. The wood was cold to Roy's touch. Jason sat beside him, turning to face Roy.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jason inquired, arm resting on the back of the pew.

"This is weird, and we only met for like two hours, but," Roy paused, mentally organizing his points.

Fumbling over his word, he continued, "So I don't know why you're the first person I though of when they said talk to someone outside of the group. I don't know. You were the first person... in a long time look at me and not see just my addiction. The first time in a while someone just saw me."

Jason bobbed his head. The visual noise encouraged Roy to keep speaking. Swallowing, he mumbled, "You told me you used to be an alcoholic?"

"Two years sober."

"Did you join a program?"

"I did it mostly on my own."

Shifting closer, Roy asked, "How'd you do it? What keeps you from just lapsing back?"

Roy made a sound that was part way between yearning and need. His arm itched and his fingers shook at the memory. He pinched his wrist as a distraction. Suddenly remembering, He tacked on, "If you don't mind me asking."

Jason laughed, clasping a hand over his mouth to contain it. The sound echoed throughout the empty church. Placing his arm back alongside the top of the pew, he commented, "You normally say that first don't you?"

"Sorry."

"I should say it gets easier," Jason began, "and it does sort of. What gets easier isn't the urge. It'd always be there in some form of another. It does get easier to refuse though. It stops being your creeping in your mind as much. As long as you as you have motivation and will power, you can get through it."

Roy frowned, fingers wrapped around his elbow. He pressed, "What motives you?"

"It'd be the perfect time to say the church, but honestly spite."

Roy doubled over, chortling erupting from him. He shook, losing his breathe to each wave of laughter. Roy inhaled, pressing a hand down on his now aching stomach. He observed the slight redness of Jason's eyes and the stiffness of his shoulders. His cocked eyebrow suggested, _are you done yet?_

"Spite?" Roy echoed.

"Doesn't fit a priest, but yes spite," Jason expanded, tracing the outline of his cross, "I'm a generally angry person. God knows my biggest vice is wrath. So I used it to my advantage. I hated the person in the mirror and never wanted to him again. I wanted to prove to every person that said that I should've died in the streets that they're wrong. Spite for everyone person who now says I'm an example for _my kind_."

Jason exhaled. His hands dropping to his lap. He added, "That's only the only reason of course, but that was my first reason. Now I've something to live for. I've got a community that worries about me. But it all started because of a small reason. I was spiteful. So start small, the bigger reasons will come later."

Jason placed his hand on Roy's shoulders. In a clear and level voice, Jason stated, "Nothing is too small of a reason as long as it gets you through another day. I think when I started off one day I didn't drink because I wouldn't be sober enough to remember my favorite tv show."

Placing his other hand on Roy's shoulder, Jason declared, "It also helped that I wasn't completely alone. They didn't know how bad I'd gotten, but they knew his death had hit me hard. They checked up on me every now and then. Made me remember as shitty as the world gets there are decent people out there."

Roy leaned back, processing the information. His eyes dropped to his arm. The reddish hue under his nail surprised him. From the sudden stinging pain that emanated from the area, he saw that he'd drawn blood. Releasing, he saw three crescent marks diagonally lined up with his track marks. His arm trembled.

He swallowed, fighting the desire. Suddenly, Jason took up Roy's line of sight. The man knelt on the floor. His hand hovered over Roy's arm. Pushing the hand away, Roy hugged himself.

"Do you want me to call anyone? Get you anything?" Jason intruded.

Roy shook his head. As long as he didn't move, as long as he waited, it'd calm down. He just needed a few minutes. Jason stopped speaking, but he never moved out of Roy's space. Drawing in a shaky breathe, Roy commented, "You said it gets easier. Are you telling me the truth."

"For me, it's easier to find reasons not to a sip," Jason commented.

Resting his head on his shoulder, Jason sighed, "When I see a bottle though or smell it, there's always that sudden impulse. It's just easier to just find reasons not to."

"If I leave right now," Roy started, "I'm worried I'll go to the first dealer I can find."

Jason stood up, brushing off pants. Holding out a hand, Jason offered, "Then stay at my place tonight. That's a reason."

"Do you always drag strangers to your house?" Roy teased, clasping Jason's forearm.

He shrugged and replied, "I got it from the man that raised me."


End file.
